I move into range and give myself three arrows to get the job done. I place my feet carefully, block out the rest of the world as I take meticulous aim. The first arrow tears through the side of the bag near the top, leaving a split in the burlap. The second widens it to a gaping hole. I can see the first apple teetering when I let the third arrow go, catching the torn flap of the burlap and ripping it from the bag. For a moment, everything seems frozen in time. Then the apples spill to the ground and I’m blown backward into the air.
(via frosting-cakes)
